


Clumsy

by dashwood



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Porn With Plot, Writing smut to spite canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashwood/pseuds/dashwood
Summary: During the hunt for a Blacklister Red is injured and accidentally lets something slip that gives Liz reason to believe that he might not be her father after all.





	Clumsy

Breathe in, breathe out.

Slowly forcing her eyes open, Liz stares at the unconscious form of the man lying on top of her. Red’s head is pillowed on her chest, his nose squished uncomfortably against the sharp edge of her collarbone, and his eyes are closed in what could easily be mistaken for a peaceful slumber if it weren’t for the shallow breaths puffing past his lips and against the sweaty skin of her neck.

And it’s not fair, Liz thinks, it really isn’t. Because Red is hurt and possibly close to slipping towards a slow and painfully drawn-out death if the cavalry doesn’t arrive anytime soon, and yet she – selfishly, _greedily_ \- can’t seem to focus on anything but the fact that he isn’t here with her when she so clearly _needs_ him.

Right now, she can feel herself tethering treacherously close to the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

Inside her chest, her heart is racing in an endlessly swelling staccato, up and down and left and right, and Liz once read that during an average lifetime, a human heart beat around 3 billion times, so what if she was running out of those beats right now? What would happen to her once she passed those issued heartbeats? Would there be any additional ones or would her heart simply stop beating altogether, and--

And of course there’s also the air. Despite the fact that they may very well suffocate inside this rotten hell of a place, squished unceremoniously between rigid stones and wrecked remains of a shambled building, there is simply too much air. It’s forcing its way inside her lungs, pushing into her, filling her to the brim and making her feel like she is drowning in air.

It’s the most excruciatingly painful thing.

Around her, everything is spiraling out of control. And _he_ isn’t there to make it better. To make it _right_. To grasp her hand safely in his and help her wade through this deadly swamp of half-lies and deceptions and _Are you my father_?

Liz presses her eyes shut tight as she tries to focus on the frantic shouts and cries straggling in through the rubble and rising smoke. Ressler will be here soon; he’ll probably bring Dembe, too. They will make sure that Red is alright, that he’ll be treated by his makeshift team of assorted medics and nurses. They will fix him right up – _tip-top shape_ , as Red would surely say. And soon enough they will joke about this, laugh about that one time they got caught mid-way in a collapsing building, and he simply looked at her and--

Breathe in, breathe out.

Suddenly, there’s a ray of light burning its way through the shifting debris. It’s pleasantly warm against her cheek, tingling with the promise of a new life, of a second chance, and when Liz opens her eyes she can see it dance over Red’s face. He looks so impossibly, frighteningly pale; the trails of blood that are trickling from his head wound the only specks of color on his otherwise lifeless features.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Liz fights back on the urge to reach out to him. She wants to touch his face, to bring her fingers up against his lips to see if he is still breathing, to feel if his skin is still warm. To see if maybe he will wake up and--

And what then?

Liz whimpers and tries to clamp down on her feelings. Her eyes are burning, whether from the swirls of dust or from unshed tears she isn’t sure. All she knows is that she’s hurting. Terribly.

Maybe she should have just listened to him when he told her that he would never lie to her. Liz thinks that it would have made everything so much easier. If she had just believed him that first time. If she could have just accepted what was laid out right in front of her. If they could just be--

Breathe in, breathe out.

 _No_.

 

\--

 

“You kissed me.”

And just like that it’s all over. All the games and ploys and schemes. Everything he had built together so carefully, held together by just a few dangerously thin strings of half-truths - it all unravels around him and leaves him with a lurching stomach and clammy hands.

A house of cards tumbling to the ground and burying him beneath it.

It’s strange, he thinks, how years - _decades_ \- of dedication and resolve could possibly crumble to molten dust just like that. His world is spinning, tilting precariously and leaving him fighting for breath, dreadfully afraid that he’ll fall into a deep, dark void from which he’ll never fully recover.

Because this can’t be - it simply can’t. He hasn’t - would never have even dared to - he couldn’t conceivably - and surely he would have remembered if he had kissed Lizzy, if he had even so much as come close enough to--

“It’s kind of hard to ignore something like that. And I don’t think…” She trails off, and because Red can’t seem to focus on the shreds of conversation ringing agonizingly inside his head, he instead stares at the worried frown on her face, the lovely crease right between her eyebrows, the animated flutter of her lashes against her skin - so impossibly dark and long.

“I’ve seen you do the most terrible, monstrous things - hurting people, _killing_ people in the most vile and cruel ways imaginable. But even though I know you’re capable of…” She breaks off, her voice catching on the last words, and Red is secretly glad for it. He doesn’t think he could stand it if she went on; the memories of another night echoing in hazy shapes right before his eyes: flashing ambulance lights and the truth falling – harshly, undisguisedly - from her lips: _You’re a monster_.

“And still… I don’t think you’d be capable of this. Of seducing your own daughter.”

The air hitches excruciatingly inside his throat; a toothed thing clawing its way out from within - scratching and scraping and - most of all – _aching terribly_.

Across the couch, Lizzy is staring at him. Waiting. Willing him to say something. But what is there possibly left to say? There’s no going back from this, no winning this particular game without hurling himself into the flickering flames of hellfire, never to return.

So in the end, Red gives a simple shake of his head. It’s just a slight twitch to the side, a miniscule movement that could easily be mistaken for a shrug or a stretch. It’s enough though, enough for her to know that she’s right, that there are some crimes that even he is beyond committing.

Lizzy nods, her eyes glinting with triumph.

 “That’s what I thought.”

He watches as she leans forward to take another sip of her drink, looking so casual, so nonchalant despite the fact that he is practically dying inside, trying to hold back the beast that is running wild inside of him, clawing at his heart and begging him to do _something_.

Still, he is immensely glad for the silence that stretches between them, however tense and pregnant it might feel. A smothering blanket of unsound that gives him just enough time to collect his bearing, to calm his nerves and thoughts which are trickling through his head like spilled juice, a jumbled mess of glaringly brash and obnoxiously harmful fears.

“I don’t remember.”

Lizzy looks up and slowly lowers her hand to put her drink down. The tinkling of her glass against the table is blatantly loud in the overwrought silence of the room, and Red inwardly berates himself for not having offered her a coaster.

“I didn’t think you would. You were pretty out of it.”

There’s nothing for him to say, really. So instead he keeps quiet and hopes that she’ll continue.

“Do you remember saving my life the other day? That abandoned warehouse that crashed before we could get out?”

Of course he remembers. How could he possibly forget any of that?

Frowning in thought, Red tries to puzzle the errant pieces together, but it all turns into a blurry haze. He can still remember chasing their Blacklister through a row of empty buildings and storage units before finally coming to a stop in one of them. Lizzy had called Ressler or Aram or Cooper – it hardly matters, now. Red had briefly considered calling the whole thing off altogether and treating Lizzy to an early lunch.

But then there had been an explosion and all of a sudden the walls around them had begun to shake on their feet, tumbling over and towards them in a pile of blazing debris and smoldering rubble. There was a split second of all-consuming fear, an animalistic urge to protect the one person who still mattered, to make sure that Lizzy was safe and sound and most importantly: _alive_.

Red thinks that he might have reached out for her. If he concentrates hard enough he can almost remember stray bits and pieces: the silky feel of her blouse beneath his hands, her legs tangled up against his own, her head tucked protectively against his chest.

But then there had been an indescribable pain followed by a comfortably snug, black emptiness.

And then…

Nothing.

Much later, he had woken up inside the improvised hospital bed of his mobile medic unit with his people swirling around him like bees in a hive. Dembe’s calm voice as he explained what had happened, and Lizzy – Lizzy had been there, too.

He can still remember the pangs of guilt eating away at him when he had seen the worried look on her face. At the time he had thought that she was merely concerned for his well-being, but now he realizes that the darkness in her eyes had instead been caused by the gnawing sense of doubt festering inside of her, spreading. Growing.

Consuming.

Slowly, it dawns on him.

“I had a concussion.” Red pauses as a frown crosses his features. “You told me I had passed out. I only came to much later, with Dembe…”

Lizzy shrugs. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to make of it.”

If he’s completely honest, then he doesn’t know either. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say or do that would make any of this right again (and he’s not entirely sure that there ever was a time when the two of them could have been considered _right_ in the first place). But now there is nothing he can do to salvage this, no way he could possibly come out of this with his soul unscathed and his heart unbroken.

Red swallows hard and – because he has always had a penchant for seeing himself suffer – he pushes further.

“Tell me?”

His voice comes out much softer, hoarser, than he had hoped for. He doesn’t want her to know just how much this throws him off, how much it unsettles him.

How much it means to him.

But Lizzy remains silent, and for a few excruciating seconds she just stares at him, looking vaguely as if she’s considering the situation. He wonders if she’ll refuse him, if she’ll shake her head and change the topic the way he has done so many times before - whenever she had asked him a particularly painful question.

But then she blinks and the look is gone, and with a shrug of her shoulders she turns in her seat, angling her body towards his.

“After everything had come down around us, we were trapped in a pretty bad place. There wasn’t a lot of space, so we were sort of pressed together. Cozying up to each other, I guess.”

The corners of her lips quirk into a teasing smile, and Red wonders how she can seemingly feel this lighthearted about any of this, how she can possibly be this content and nonchalant when deep down inside he is practically crumbling to dust with a crippling fear.

“We were so close. Faces almost touching.”

As if caught in a dream - limbs heavy, thoughts obscured by a hazy fog of confusion and wonder alike - Red watches as Lizzy gradually shifts onto her knees and deliberately leans forward, bringing her face up close to his. Reflexively, he draws in a sharp breath and holds it, feeling his lungs burn with the need to breathe, but not knowing how to go about it without bridging the distance between them and inhaling _her_.

“I was so worried about you.”

Her voice has gone quiet now. Soft. Caught somewhere between a calming whisper meant to sooth a frightened child and a lover’s secret shared in hushed tones beneath a falling night sky.

Red swallows hard.

 “There was so much blood.”

Slowly, she raises her hand to his forehead, gently touching her fingers to the bruise on his temple - nearly gone, now. Red’s eyes flutter closed on their own accord as she tenderly scratches her nails against his skin, fingers ghosting over his sideburn to his jaw. Her touch leaves a delicious tingling in its wake, and it’s all he can do to suppress the appreciative purr rumbling in his chest.

“But of course you didn’t care about any of that. Just kept asking if I was alright, if I was hurt.”

He opens his eyes, blinking. A bit dazed.

She is so close now, her blue eyes burning into his, and _god_ \- she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen - so vibrant and lively.

So utterly fascinating.

Almost inevitably, he finds his gaze drawn to her lips. They look so soft and lush, so perfectly shaped, and Red is quite sure that there is anything in this world that he wouldn’t give to find out what she’d taste like. If he’d find any traces of the wine she has been sipping at, or if she’d simply taste of herself – undoubtedly mesmerizing and wholly _Lizzy_.

Hypnotized, Red watches as her lips part, her tongue flickering out to wet her lips. He briefly considers leaning in and chasing it with his own, wonders, too, if she’d let him.

But then the moment is gone again as a soft giggle escapes her. Snapping his eyes back up to hers, Red finds her face alight with amusement.

“And then you stared at my lips - just like that.”

He huffs, a bit sulkily. Caught red-handed.

Though it appears that Lizzy isn’t done yet. Instead of ending her little game there, she tilts her head to the side and brings her hand up to fit it against his cheek, cupping it gently in the palm of her hand. It’s utterly impossible to _not_ lean into her touch, to revel in the warmth of her skin against his own as her fingers brush over the sharp edge of his cheekbone and back down to his jaw.

Her touch is so affectionate and loving.

It almost breaks him.

“And then...”

He swallows the whimper that is catching inside his throat.

“Then you reached out and touched my cheek just like that. You were so careful - afraid to hurt me, maybe.”

She pauses, her face scrunching up into a pensive frown.

By now he can feel his control slipping through his fingers. It seems like he is quickly running out of reasons not to reach out and pull her close; suddenly, all of the excuses he had made over the past few years - every single admonishment and resolution is steadily crumbling away into sweet nonexistence.

Finally, Lizzy continues, and Red lets go of the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

“And then you leaned in and…”

Impossibly, his heart picks up speed once again, bellowing violently against his ribcage even as his eyes fall shut. It’s too much; she simply cannot expect him to stay away any longer. Not now that she is moving closer and he can feel her breath tickling over his face.

Red thinks – for one foolish, helpless moment – that he should probably stop this, that he should push her away and resume their previous relationship no matter how unbearably raw and painful it was. The one she had forced upon them when she had shown up at his motel room one late night with that damning piece of paper. 

(That night, he had curled into a ball on his bed and _wept_ for hours, hurting. _Dying_ inside.)

But what would be the point in that anyway? Because apparently he has already crossed that line they had to carefully drawn into the sand – even if he can’t remember it now.

And if he’s completely honest then he doesn’t want to turn around and go back. Back to a time and place where this is wrong, where he can’t be close to Lizzy. Where he can’t lean in to breathe in the heady tones of her perfume, so perfectly soft and sweet. Where he can’t feel the warmth of her skin seep into his own. Where it’s wrong to feel her lashes flutter against his cheekbones – impossibly close and yet not nearly close enough.

She is never close enough.

But then she stops. Stops so suddenly and unexpectedly just before her lips touch his – just a breath away, and Red wants to whimper at the cruelty of it. If she’d just sway forward the tiniest bit, just a smidge, he would be able to feel her lips against his own.

He would be able to kiss her.

To claim her.

He doesn’t.

And then Lizzy pulls back, and he feels _bereft_.

His voice comes out deep and gravelly when he finally speaks.

“I believe we have different definitions of what a kiss consists of, Lizzy.”

Even though the lighthearted laugh that bubbles past her lips is the loveliest sound, Red can’t help but feel indignant about all of this. Because this feels suspiciously as if he has just been cheated out of something he had wanted – desired, _burned for_ – for so long now. And it’s not a laughing matter, it really isn’t.

“You really _did_ kiss me.” She says with a smug grin on her face. “It was really sloppy though.”

It’s hard to sufficiently place the sound that escapes his throat at her words – it’s a bit scratchy and slightly high-pitched, somewhere between an outraged huff and a stunned squeal, and all of a sudden Red can feel his cheeks starting to burn with white-hot embarrassment.

“Lizzy.”

“It was all tongue - and so wet!”

“ _Lizzy_.”

“It reminded me a bit of my first kiss in high school with-”

There seems to be only one logical way to make her stop, so Red lunges forward, hands reaching out to cup her cheek as his lips capture hers in a searing kiss that is decidedly not wet and clumsy. Or maybe it is, because he surely can’t seem to remember the last time he has felt this anxious and worried. Every single nerve ending in his body is set aflame with the prickling fear of rejection looming above him. 

Because what if this isn’t good enough either? If this isn’t what Lizzy wants or needs? What if he doesn’t measure up, what if—

But then he can feel her lips – still pressed against his – twitch into a smile, and it’s the most beautiful feeling in the whole world. All of a sudden, Red feels incredibly happy and blissful, as if the past years of pain and hardships are all diminished in the face of this single moment – of him kissing Lizzy on the beat-up couch of his latest safe house.

Lizzy fists her hands in the material of his shirt, bunching it between her fingers to pull him closer still, pulling him down on top of her until she is lying pressed into the cushions with his body hovering above hers.

After another moment, Red gentles the kiss and slowly pulls back to look at her face. Lizzy’s eyes are closed, but there’s a content smile on her lips, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say that she looks decidedly like the cat who just got the canary. The impression only strengthens when her eyes flutter open. There’s a triumphant spark inside of them that is almost enough to make him squirm.

Worriedly, Red rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“I feel like I have just stepped into a bear trap. Tell me, Lizzy, how are my chances of getting out of this with my dignity intact?”

Lizzy laughs. “I didn’t make any of that up, in case you’re thinking that. Although to be fair, it wasn’t a bad first kiss. It _was_ a bit clumsy, but it was cute-clumsy.”

“ _Cute-clumsy_?”

She shrugs beneath him, her smile playful and strangely challenging, and Red isn’t quite sure whether to take this as another insult to his already-battered pride or as a much-needed smoothing of his ruffled feathers. But then she reaches out and grips the collar of his shirt to tug him back towards her, and all of a sudden nothing else seems to matter anymore.

Red groans as she parts her legs to make room for him, and he obliges willingly, gladly, to settle in between her legs. The pleased moan she gives at the feel of him pressed against her seizes at his heart and makes his head spin pleasantly.

And this is wonderful, glorious, and absolutely marvelous.

Red thinks that he could probably do this for hours, could make out with Lizzy like a pair of randy teenagers about to be caught by their disapproving parents. But apparently his Lizzy has other plans, because after a while her kisses grow more frantic and misplaced, and he is just about to slow down and ask her if maybe they should stop, if this isn’t what she wants after all, when he feels her legs wrap around his waist and _oh_.

“Lizzy,” he moans as she rubs herself against him, needy and persistent, and _god_ , so unbelievably hot even through the layers of clothes separating them from one another.

“More, Red. I need more. Please?”

Nodding stupidly, he carefully untangles his right hand from its resting place against the side of her head, letting his fingers slide through her silky locks before trailing them over the exposed skin of her cleavage, down her collarbone and over the front of her shirt – barely touching her at all. Beneath him, Lizzy moans and strains wantonly against his touch, wordlessly encouraging him to be bolder in his explorations.

Of course, he’d be a fool not to, Red thinks as he replaces his hand with his mouth, hungrily kissing down the slope of her neck before returning to suck at her pulse point. He lets his lips trail a burning path across her cleavage, all the while spurned on by the soft moans and appreciative mewls that escape her parted lips whenever he finds a particularly sensitive spot.

Once he reaches the barrier of her shirt, he lets his teeth scrape against the cheap cotton, gently biting at her skin through the clothes.

“Lizzy, may I-”

Red pulls back to tug at the offending material that blocks his exploration of her body, desperately trying not to focus on the way her lower half keeps rocking up against him; an enticingly alluring promise of what is about to come.

“Yes, please!”

Straining upwards in one swift motion, Lizzy claims his lips and kisses him hard, teeth nipping at his bottom lip just before she pulls away again, leaving him to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Lizzy is fumbling with the top buttons of her blouse and Red briefly wonders if he should offer his help or if maybe it wouldn’t be better if he just stayed away – which would probably be the wiser choice, considering that his hands were trembling with barely concealed excitement and grating nerves.

Still, it’s only a moment later that she manages to pull the shirt over her head, and for a split second Red finds himself mesmerized by the way her dark curls tumble into her eyes. But then he finds his gaze drawn to her pitiful excuse of a bra, black lace cupping her breasts in a loving grasp, and the sight makes his mouth water. 

Red groans. At his side, his fingers are itching to touch her, to pull her closer and devour her whole.

With effort, Red tears his eyes back to Lizzy’s face to take in her flushed cheeks and the shy smile ghosting over her lips. He briefly wonders if she doesn’t know that she is the most beautiful thing on earth, if maybe her previous lovers haven’t told her, but the thought makes his heart ache in so many ways. Because Lizzy deserves the world, and if he could – if she’ll just _allow_ him, he’ll gladly do anything in his power to give it to her.

Red reaches out to frame her face with his hands, silently marveling at the privilege of being allowed so close. He lets his thumbs caress over her cheekbones before carefully brushing the errant strands of hair behind her ears, never daring to break their gaze.

“You are everything, Lizzy. Absolutely everything.”

His voices comes out much softer than he had anticipated, full of adoration and wonder, and yet he inwardly keens at the way her eyes light up at his words.

As the smile spreads further over her features, Lizzy leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. She moves on before he can return it though, letting her lips trail over his heated skin, teeth scraping deliciously against the side of his neck before she eagerly sucks at his pulse point – the same spot she had marked him so many years ago, one of his favorite scars on his bruised and broken body.

He moans her name, and she takes it as an encouragement to take this further, to impatiently tug at his shirt and undershirt until she finally manages to pull them free off his pants so her fingers can slip below the material and through the soft hairs on his stomach trailing down to disappear inside his pants. His skin is tingling in the wake of her touch, burning with a passionate need that is threatening to consume him whole any moment now.

Red gives an impatient shudder.

“Red, more. Now!”

Demanding little minx, Red marvels with a chuckle.

But the laugh chokes in his throat when all of a sudden he feels her hand pressed against the front of his pants, fumbling at the fly of his pants to slip inside and grip him just _so_. And if he could just concentrate on anything but the feeling of her nimble fingers stroking him in a fast and punishing pace that makes it difficult to breathe, then he’d surely do something about that infuriatingly smug smirk on her face.

Red muffles a groan against her shoulder as she gives him a rough squeeze that causes him to buck helplessly against her.

Leaning slightly back, Red tries to hold on to the last shreds of his composure and instead tries to focus on getting Lizzy out of her own pants, encouraging her to lift her hips so he can slide the stupid thing over her legs and off. Eventually, he ends up pawing at the garment a bit feebly, but Lizzy doesn’t seem to mind, merely giggles – a bit breathlessly and most of all: happily – before she falls back into the cushions, her hands reaching up to gently scratch her nails against the back of his scalp.

“God, Lizzy.”

“Now, Red. Please?”

Red growls and reaches down to stroke himself, his mind set on finally feeling her around him - but stops himself at the last moment, almost groaning in misery.

“Do you have a - ah… something?” He cringes, inwardly admonishing himself for sounding like a groping teenager making out with his prom date in the backseat of his father’s car.

“I’m good.”

She pulls him back into another searing kiss, impatiently pushing her hips up into his and making him moan into her mouth. Once again he feels her hand on him, and it’s all he can do not to unravel at the seams at the feeling of her slender fingers wrapped around him, determinedly guiding him towards her entrance.

“Are you sure, Lizzy?”

Red pulls back to search her eyes. He has to ask, has to make sure that this is what she wants.

That she won’t regret having him.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want this, Red. So much.”

Her eyes look impossibly dark, pupils blown huge with passion and that hot-headed determination he so adores about her. And how could he ever refuse her anything? Especially this – something he himself desires more than life itself?

He reaches down to gently nudge her hand away before aligning himself at her entrance and – in one slow, smooth stroke – pushes inside of her.

And _god_ , she is simply amazing. Scorching hot and so unbelievably wet and tight that it makes it almost impossible to hold on, to remain still inside of her long enough to allow her to adjust to the size of him.

Lizzy moans and the sound shoots straight through him, rings inside his head even as everything around him is spinning in a whirl of bright colors and resonant hums. It’s all a bit overwhelming, really. To finally have this. To finally be allowed—

Red closes his eyes and heaves a soft sigh as he leans down to press a tender kiss against Lizzy’s brow, slowly trailing his lips down her cheek and to the corner of her lips just as she turns her head to deepen his kiss.

When she gasps into his mouth he begins to move, leisurely sliding out of her only to snap his hips back in a sharp twist that makes her purr beneath him. It’s sweet and slow – torturously so, leaving them both short of breath and wanting for more.

Even though the rhythm he establishes isn’t nearly enough to push either of them towards the edge of completion, Red can’t seem to bring himself to quicken the pace. He doesn’t want this to end. Instead, he wants to hold on to this moment forever. To stretch it into a thin string of never-ending bliss and revel in it, to memorize every nuance of her – every bittersweet moan and every flutter of her eyes, every sigh that tumbles from her lips, every clench of her muscles around him.

Everything, Red thinks at last. He wants to savor every single thing about this moment.

Beneath him, Lizzy keens with every move of him against her, and Red can feel her fingers fisting in the material of his shirt, pulling it taunt against his shoulders as it ruffles in her bruising grasp.

“Red, please!” She begs, and Red nods in understanding, finally picking up his speed. His thrusts become rougher, faster, and a glance at her face tells him that this is exactly what she needs. Lizzy’s eyes are closed in blinding pleasure, her lips slightly parted to draw in a string of quick, shuddering breaths.

Bridging the distance between them, Red leans back down to pepper feather-light kisses against the sweaty skin of her collarbone, allowing his tongue to flicker out to taste her just before moving further down and nipping gently at her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

Lizzy mewls in pleasure, and the sound – so blissful, so clearly, vocally aroused – sends another rush of excitement through him.

And this is it, he thinks. He isn’t going to last much longer – not if she keeps making those noises, if her fingernails keep digging into his shoulders, if she keeps moving like that, enthusiastically meeting his thrusts with every twist of his hips against hers.

“Lizzy, are you…”

 _Close_?

Her sharp nod and panting gasp reassure him that she’s just as far gone as he is, and it’s only a moment later that he can feel her quivering with her release, can feel her flutter around him – clenching him impossibly tight in a series of spiraling spasms.

It’s enough to tip him over the edge, too; his climax hitting him hard as he spills himself inside of her – one wave of pleasure chasing the next as he allows it to crash over him. To pull him under.

And even though their first time is just this side of frenzied and fumbling and - yes, clumsy - it’s still absolutely perfect.

Still trying to catch his breath, Red eventually rolls off her, instantly reaching out to wrap his arms around her trembling form. In one swift movement, he pulls her flush against him, inwardly keening at feeling her pressed against him – still hot and sated from their lovemaking.

With a content sigh, she burrows further against him, and the sensation of feeling her chest rise and fall against his own as she slowly comes down from her high is simply magnificent.

“We’ll have to talk about this though. About why that DNA matched and-,” she stops and sighs against his skin, her breath hot and pleasantly tingling even through the layers of clothes still shielding him from her sight.

“You’ll have to tell me the truth, Red. I know you don’t want to, but I need to know. Especially now that we’re…”

He can feel the nervous tick just below his eye twitching in dread even as he tries to ignore the clawed paw clasping his heart in a grueling death grip. Instead, he pushes his fears to the back of his mind and focuses on Lizzy lying in his arms, spent and wholly his – at least for now.

Nodding wearily, Red presses another kiss to her brow. Lizzy’s skin is still sticky from sweat and exhaustion, and his lips brush up against the downy baby hairs plastered to her temple.  

“Tomorrow, Lizzy. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

_But for now, just let me have this._

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, I've never gotten around to writing smut before - I fear it shows. But any pointers and feedback are very welcome (and will hopefully improve my next pwp fic if there should ever be one).


End file.
